Page 45 of Final Verdict
“It’ll have to wait until after my meeting,” I say. “It’s one of my biggest clients.”
“You have a meeting today?”
“Yes.” I arch a brow. “Obviously. I’ll call you after it’s over.”
An intern suddenly rushes into the room, her face pale, confirming that the client is here.
“We’ll talk later,” I say to Scarlett. “I really need to go.”
The door on the other side swings open, and Lucas walks in wearing his usual impeccable black suit.
“Good morning, Lucas,” I say to him. “If you give me five seconds?—”
“Scarlett?” Lucas cuts me off, squinting at Scarlett. “I thought you had midterms this week. What the hell are you doing here in New York?”
“I...” Her cheeks redden. “I heard you were coming into town, so I wanted to surprise you... Surprise.”
“I don’t recall telling you I was coming or where I’d be, Scarlett,” Lucas says.
“Antonio and Ryan let it slip last week when I called,” she says. “I hope you’ll have enough time to get lunch.”
“You two know each other?” I look between them, confused as to how their worlds could ever possibly collide.
“Yes, I know her very well.” Lucas steps closer to us. “She’s my daughter.”
—end of episode 1?—
Jameson & Scarlett’s story continues inContempt of Court!
Preorder now.
In the meantime, flip the page for the start of my first legal trilogy,Reasonable Doubt, and one-click to read the entire story.
REASONABLE DOUBT
PROLOGUE
ANDREW
New York City is nothing more than a shit-filled wasteland, a dump where failures are forced to drop all their broken dreams and leave them far behind. The flashing lights that shined brightly years ago have lost their luster, and that fresh feeling that once permeated the air—thathopefulness, is long gone.
Every person I once considered a friend is now an enemy, and the word “trust” has been ripped from my vocabulary. My name and reputation are tarnished thanks to the press, and after reading the headline thatThe New York Timesran this morning, I’ve decided that tonight will be the last night I ever spend here.
I can’t deal with the cold sweats and nightmares that jerk me out of my sleep anymore, and as hard as I try to pretend like my heart hasn’t been obliterated, I doubt that the agonizing ache in my chest will ever go away.
To properly say goodbye, I’ve ordered the best entrées from all my favorite restaurants, watchedDeath of a Salesmanon Broadway, and smoked a Cuban cigar on the Brooklyn Bridge.I’ve also booked the penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria, where I’m now leaning back on the bed and threading my fingers through a woman’s hair—groaning as she slides her mouth over my cock.
Teasingly darting her tongue around my tip, she whispers, “Do you like this?” as she looks up at me.
I don’t answer. I push her head down and exhale as she presses her lips against my balls, as she covers my cock with her hands and moves them up and down.
Over the past two hours, I’ve fucked her against the wall, forced her to bend over a chair, and pinned her legs to the mattress while I devoured her pussy.
It’s been quite fulfilling—fun, but I know this feeling will only last for so long; it never stays. In less than a week, I’ll have to find someone else.
As she takes me deeper and deeper into her mouth, I tightly tug her hair—tensing as she bobs her head up and down. Pleasure begins to course its way through me, and the muscles in my legs stiffen—forcing me to let go and warn her to pull away.
She ignores me.
